


Paul, This Is My Story And You Happen To Be In It

by RingosLiverpool8



Category: The Beatles
Genre: F/M, M/M, MI6!John, Slight Drama, Slight Humor, Warlock!Paul, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:23:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RingosLiverpool8/pseuds/RingosLiverpool8
Summary: Ok. Let’s get something straight before I start. I, John Winston Lennon, am the narrator and any snarky comments from secondary parties, namely, ahem, one James Paul McCartney, should be discarded and regarded as false. He was asleep for half this shit anyway.





	1. Entry No. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before any death threats come in, I'm working on my other stuff and just trying to iron things out. Bear with me. This is just an in between thing. And I'm using some Bond clichés... so. Enjoy!!!
> 
> I don't own the Beatles and James Bond for that matter

Ok. Let’s get something straight before I start. I, John Winston Lennon, am the narrator and any snarky comments from secondary parties, namely, _ahem,_ one James Paul McCartney, should be discarded and regarded as false. He was asleep for half this shit anyway.

So.

Now, on with how I managed to find a slumbering, old warlock in a cave. The day had been nearing and end and my team –.

 

_You shouldn’t start there, love. Why were you looking out in the Bavarian Forest in the first place?_

 

Also for the record, this entire transcript is being typed from an audio recording thanks to a gracious friend of mine. George, you’re wonderful. And Paul, shut up.

 

_You’re confusing people, Johnny._

 

Fine.

Hi. I’m John Lennon, former MI6 agent and current asylum seeker somewhere in the mainland of Europe.

 

_You don’t have to be so secretive. We’re back in Bavaria, living comfortably in the cute little town of Regensburg. We’re also not asylum seekers. Maybe I should tell this story…_

 

Paul.

 

_What?_

 

Shut. Up.

Sorry about him. I’ll get on with this now. I’m John Lennon, formerly MI6, yadda yadda. When I was with the agency, reports came in from some hikers who wrote that they thought they saw a completely naked figure sleeping in a closed off, but worn-down, cave-like structure. They tried getting in but were unable. The cave had not old German, but old Brittonic script on the outside and the German authorities contacted us upon translation

“Beware: Enemy of the Kings of Briton.” A heavily accented man spoke on the phone. In my years at the agency, combing through the historical documents, never had I come across an enemy of the crown who was kept captive in a cave. One you would expect to be bones by now. Or less. Regardless, the case peaked my interest as well as MI6 because the body apparently still had flesh and was noticeably breathing. The agency sent me and a small team of my choosing to check it out. Being the history expert had its perks.

 

_He went to Cambridge._

 

Yes. Thank you, Macca, for telling them that useless piece of information.

 

_It’s not useless. It’s impressive. I get to say my husband went to Cambridge and graduated with high honors._

 

Keep butting in and you won’t be able to say anything.

 

_Kinky._

 

PAUL!

God. Sorry, I warned you all. Anyways, my team and I took the next flight from London to Munich to meet with some German archaeologists to head out to the site. Germany has always been one of my favorite places in the world, next to England, of course.

 

_Is that residual World War sentiments?_

 

What? No. The end of the war was 70 some odd years ago, Paul. I wasn’t even thought of then. Have you been reading my history textbooks again?

 

_Maybe… I also read on your magic box that People still hold grudges._

 

We’ve talked multiple times about this, love. It’s a smartphone. Technology.

 

_I understand that. I’m not an idiot. It’s more fun to say magic box._

 

Whatever, you can’t believe what you read on there anyway. Even if it is slightly true. More so in the United States.

 

_Barbarians?_

 

Not all. Just their President, really. Stop distracting me. Back on topic, right. Germany, archaeologists, Bavarian forest. Sleeping caveman.

At the hotel, we gathered in the lobby to discuss the particulars of the hike. Our guide, Tim, explained the cave was about 6.5km from the hiker’s path. “The path is not cleared. I urge caution from all. The hikers who found the cave were professionals.”

“We’re prepared,” I answered on behalf the two others in my team. We jump off buildings for a living and Stuart likes hiking anyway. He was my most trusted colleague and a close friend. His area was art…

 

_Take a breath, love._

 

(Inaudible)

 

_I know. He’d want you to talk about it._

 

(Inaudible)

 

_Shhh._

 

…his area was art. All kinds. I thought if there were any drawings or clothes, we’d be able to define a narrower period for what/who we’re dealing with.

One of the archaeologists, Dr. Voorman, spoke up. “Since we have agreed on no digital pictures, we have bought everyone disposable cameras. Until we know what this is, it is all under wraps. Agent, you’ve brought a photography professional, yes?”

I nodded in affirmation. “Astrid. She’ll fly in tomorrow after we’ve visited the site.”

“She said she knew you Dr. Voorman.” Stuart said, earning an impressed look from me. You see, he doesn’t talk much unless important. But I suppose anything that has to do with his girlfriend is important. Astrid’s family fled Germany in the beginning of the Second World War and she was raised speaking German at home and eventually went to school in Hamburg and came back to England to work with us. She’s an expert at picking out doctored photographs and videos as well enhancing and doctoring herself. Quite frightening what she can do with a little photoshop work.

“Ah, genau. We went to school together. It will be good to see her again.”

“I read through the reports and the hikers reported the body to be shackled to the wall?” My other team member, Richard, asked, thankfully, changing the subject. It was a point that I, too, was confused about. I’m a history expert, Stuart handles the art. and Richard handles the scientific part of things, technology and otherwise. He developed all of our cool little gadgets. The state of the, probably, iron chains were a mystery to all of us.

“Supposedly. And in pristine condition.” Klaus said, also with a tone of incredulity.

“I don’t understand. Given the Brittonic on the walls indicating time period, how strong are these chains? Say the guy is some immortal god. After years of being in there, don’t you think he’d try breaking rusty iron chains?” The whole mystery was starting to get to me, we only had what two hikers saw and it really didn’t amount to much.

Then, Klaus shrugged. “That’s what we are going to see.”


	2. Entry No. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own The Beatles or anything else that might be referenced in here....

_Uhm. Hi. Paul here. John’s currently taking a nap, adorably snuggling the cat. You already know that I was the one they found in the cave and I want to tell a little bit of how I got there and how I became known as an enemy to the Kings of Briton. It had to do with destiny and a manipulative King who twisted destiny for personal gain._

_As it was then, a Sorcerer had only three options: a beggar, dark magic, or servant to a royal. You could try to become something else, but more often than not, you’d fail. You see, people were scared of magic. It wasn’t illegal unless you practiced dark magic. If you were a benevolent beggar-sorcerer, you got not recognition and people took advantage, began to see your magic as nothing more than what was owed to them as payment for the things done to them by the minority of evil sorcerers. You would think, then, that the best option would be to become a servant to royalty and mostly, it was. Those jobs, however, were severely limited and not always cushy._

_My parents died in a raid on our village and a druid by the name of Andras ran off with me. I was born with magic, only one of a few who were. Andras was assigned to protect me and teach me to be both an advisor and a powerful sorcerer. My destiny at its most basic level was to be an advisor to someone important and at the time, interpreters assumed it would be a King. So, long story short, I became an advisor to the Kingdom of Mercia. We knew with the threat of emerging Christianity, that belief in the counsel of Sorcerers would soon be extinct. To fulfill my destiny, I needed to move fast. The fist monarch I served treated with me with reverence and respect. I had a chamber in the same wing of the fortress as the King, Queen, and Prince and I dined with royalty._

_But I should have foreseen the King’s death._

_I was never liked by the Prince. His mind had been addled for some time and the rising influence of Christianity affected him. He no longer wanted to practice the ways of the old Religion. We were pagan and evil to the Prince and once the King died, the Prince quickly ascended to the throne. That’s when things began to change._

_“Meirionwen, the King has requested your presence in his chambers.”_

_I looked up from the text on my desk as the knight addressed me by what I was called then. The door to my study never stayed shut, because I believed (and still do believe) everyone in the Kingdom deserved the right to advice and knowledge._

_With a nod, I sent the texts on my desk back to their places on the shelves. While the knight patiently waited for me in the doorway, I changed into more appropriate clothing for an audience with the King. At the time, I didn’t think anything could be the matter. I was used to being hailed for all sorts of reasons._

_“May I ask what his Highness requires me for?” I inquired to the knight. I couldn’t place a name to his face, signaling that he must be new._

_He sent me an anxious glance. “He only asked me to collect you from your chambers.”_

_Processing his response and body language, I responded by changing the subject. “How rude of me, I never asked your name, Sir Knight?”_

_“Selwyn.”_

_“Are you afraid of me, Sir Selwyn?”_

_“N-no, my lord.”_

_To be honest with myself, I should have sensed then that something was wrong. The royal household and their subjects never looked upon me with fear. Audibly sensing the poor knight’s discomfort, I conjured an innocent gift. “_ Bluomo wahsan. _” With a small, silver sparkle, a single blue flower with a dot of yellow appeared in my hand. I held it out for Sir Selwyn to take. “Magic isn’t evil or unnatural. Only the person who wields it. It’s much like a sword or a mace, but it shouldn’t be used as a weapon. My instructor would tell you differently, though. Magic has a purpose. For some it’s war and for some it’s revenge, but for the most of us, it’s to help others. You face no harm in my company, my good Sir.”_

_Selwyn took the flower, pushing it around his palm with his other hand. “This flower. What does it do?” We’d stopped our trek to the throne room, so he could look at the gift a little closer. I could see that the apprehension that used to be there was now gone, only to be replaced with the wonder of a child. I sort of always saw Selwyn as a child even though he was probably three or four years younger than I was._

_“It doesn’t have to do anything…” I stopped because I felt the Sight. A premonition of something to come. I saw Sir Selwyn crying upon the flower wilting in his hands. The knight’s tears had something to do with me, but I couldn’t figure out what. “However, you’ll never forget.” That phrase came to me after the vision. I found out later, from Sir Selwyn’s descendants that he told my story and it had been passed down. Some things got lost along the way and it turned into a children’s story. John bought me an edition of it._

Paulie?

_John. I was just giving a little bit of background of myself…_

I know. I’ve been listening. I didn’t know some of that. Sir Selwyn?

_A close friend._

How close?

_Oi. Drop the Jealous tone. He helped me when no one else would._

What happened to him?

_Story for another time, don’t you think?_

Alright. Go on and get ready. We’ll continue recording later, we’ve got that dinner reservation, remember?

** End of Audio **


	3. Entry No. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> I don't own the Beatles nor anything else referenced in here.

**Entry No. 3**

John here. We just got back from dinner and Paul wanted to record a little bit more. I expected to go right to bed, if you know what I mean – ow! FYI, he just hit me.

_I hit you because the audience doesn’t need to know that._

Oh, I assure you Macca, they do. They’re a randy bunch.

_Don’t call them that. Our audience are lovely people._

How would you know?

_Warlock. Duh._

I’m calling bullshit on that.

_You’ll never know, Johnny._

Actually. I do. Your magic likes me better than you.

_How do you reckon that one out?_

Look at your hand. *laughter* Your own magic is ratting you out. Just for clarification for our lovely audience: in glittering, sliver letters, on the top of his hand, is the word “liar”.

_Oh, bugger off, John._

It’s not my fault, darling.

_Get on with the story, jackass._

Love you, too, babe. Alright, where’d I leave off.

_The meeting with the Germans._

Ah, right. After the initial meeting, we headed out. It was about 1600 when we reached our destination to set up camp. The cave wasn’t too much farther, either, probably about another 45 minutes. Luckily, the weather stayed decent. The whole thing would have been a new kind of hell had it rained the entire time.

“It is up to the rest of you. Would you like to go on to the cave or wait until morning?” Klaus announced after finishing up with his tent.

“How much more daylight do we have?” I asked. Personally, I wanted to go on. The excitement was killing me.

Tim hummed from his spot on a fallen rock. “About four more hours until the sun starts to set. We’ll be up there with about three more hours left.”

“Let’s go just check it out before we start to do work?” Richard asked after securing the last pin our tent.

An air of agreement fluttered around our group and it was decided that we go on up to survey a little. I really wanted Ritchie up there to look at the chains. Logic had told me they wouldn’t be easy to break. The reason why?  Unclear at the time.

In about 40 minutes, we reached the cave and the hiker’s description was accurate. The stone blocking off the cave was crumbling apart and you could see the figure in there. However, one thing didn’t quite match up.

The figure _wasn’t_ chained to the wall and the figure was most definitely a he. His “chains” were only shackles, bracelet-like around his ankles and wrists. I couldn’t make much more out, but his skin tone and hair color, which was not long. That alone should have been a clue that something was up, because had he been in there for so long, his hair would be scruffy, matted, and unwashed. It wasn’t, or at least, it didn’t look that way.

_Magic._

Thank you, Paul, for that insightful comment.

_Your sarcasm is duly noted._

Good. Now, back to finding your magic ass in a cave.

_My ass is pretty magical._

Paul. Enough.

_Fine, fine. Continue. I’ll shut up._

No, you won’t. Where was I? *2 minutes of silence* Paul?

_What?_

Where was I?

_You told me to butt out and shut up. I did._

Just tell me where I left off!

_Touchy. You just got to the cave, saw the binding cuffs._

Right. “Klaus, can we go ahead and bust in or do you need to mark where everything is? I don’t want to mess with your excavation.” I asked, anxious like a child eager to play with a new toy.

He turned to his team behind him, discussing the answer in rapid German that I could barely pick up. I took a bit of German in school and a little bit of a refresher course before coming here, but it wasn’t enough to become fluent or competent enough to understand everything.

“There is not much we can see on the outside here, besides that inscription on the outside. As long as you do not disturb that. We have pictures of it for reference. And… well… we want to get in there, too.”

I laughed. “Understandable. Richard, blow the thing.”

“’kay.” You have to be around our lovely Richard to really get how blasé he can be about things. The poor Germans thought that by blowing up the rocks in front of the cave, they’d lose some historical integrity. Therefore, I made him explain what he was about to do, even though he doesn’t like explaining things to the, as he says, “lay people”.

“I’m going to use a controlled explosion which will only combust the surrounding parts. We’ve tested this before, so no need to worry. The bottom rocks here will be the only one’s cracking and it’ll cause the others to fall away, much like a natural occurrence. It’s physics.”

Still, the Germans backed away as Richard set up his small little cookie. I call it a cookie because it’s this little small black disk. It may look harmless, but it does pack a bit of a punch.

The detonation went off, doing exactly what Richard said it would. Slowly, the rocks began to slide off as the main stones in the middle lost stability. Save for a little bit of dust, we could see the inside of the cave and we were right. The figure in the cave was, indeed, not chained to the wall. But he was sleeping. Along the walls next to him were more inscriptions.

“Herein an enemy to the Kings of Briton. Danger may be upon he who release Lord Meirionwen.” I translated. “At least we have a name.”

“This guy is very much alive, John.” Stu spoke up from over next to the body. “I don’t know how, but he is.” I slipped in my glasses and sure enough, from the other side of the cave, I could see his chest visibly rise and fall, like in a deep sleep.

“Richard, those iron bracelets. Can you get them off?” I asked

“I don’t see anywhere for a key to go in. There’s also these odd symbols on them that I’ve never seen before.” Richard spoke, lifting the man’s wrist, examining them.

“They are druidic.” Klaus said while taking the wrist from Richard.

“Druidic? What the hell are we dealing with?” I wondered out loud. My mind didn’t want to go towards magic. Then, none of us believed in it. I was a myth, a fairytale and I didn’t want to be the one to say it.

_I don’t blame you. Even back in my time, people were skeptical. Magic users were dying out, their practices no longer useful to the majority. They had faith in their new God._

Did you believe in their God?

_Touchy subject, love. A lot of my people were killed by the followers of this new God. But I understood where they came from and I prayed to both my gods and their God. I believe in coexistence and benevolence. To me, no God or gods were above the other. I also saw their God as more of a loving figure than a wrathful one. It was heretical thinking then. You see where it got me._

On that light note, we should go to bed and pick up tomorrow. Maybe start with your story a little bit.

_You mean I get to speak?_

Shut up and take what you can get.

**End of recording.**


	4. Entry No. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I'm putting off doing my other fics and I'm sorry. I'm also moving back to the US in a couple days so updates will slow. 
> 
>  
> 
> I don't own the Beatles or anything else in here.

****

**Entry No. 4**

_Paul again. I, uh, woke up a little early so John wouldn’t have to hear most of what I’m about to explain. The last I told you was that the King summoned me to the throne room. Sir Selwyn kept the reason to himself, but I could see where it bothered him. I’d gained his trust and I didn’t realize till much later how much his trust saved my life. Without him, I would not be sitting here._

_But I’ll get to that._

_From my chambers to the throne room, it was about an eight or ten minute walk. The castle, or better, fortress, was beautifully ornate with marble and stone elegantly mixed with expertly woven tapestries and painted portraits of the members of the royal household. The most current had been the newly crowned King in his father’s crown. I gave a little bit of history between myself and the new King and as he grew older so did his disdain for his father’s choice in me as an advisor._

_It all started with a simple request from the King that day I met Sir Selwyn. “Meirionwen, please sit.”_

_“Thank you, Your Highness.” I sat down in the seat on the left of the King. “If I may ask, is there something you need from me?”_

_“Yes. I called you in to tell you your duties have been split. Father Gwenddydd will be taking some of your responsibilities. In order to make him feel welcome as a member of the royal household, I’ve given him your chambers and assigned you new ones in the South Tower.”_

_I put my hands flat on the table, keeping my face like stone. My magic stirred beneath my fingers in reaction to the emotion cursing through my veins. “Of course, Sire. I’ll begin moving my things.” Without another word, I stood up to leave, stifling a shiver down my spine as I passed the priest. He had a smug look on his face that I could have wiped off with one look. There was something going on that I didn’t understand. I had been his father’s most trusted advisor in his last years and had been in that room for fifteen years. The South Tower lied as far away from the royal chambers as possible and mostly uninhabited._

_“Oh, and Meirionwen?”_

_I stopped, not turning around. “Yes, Sire?”_

_“You needn’t come to the council meeting today.”_

_My eyes burned silver as I blasted the doors to the throne room open and strode out. Two things happened in that moment. One, I scared the shit out of the priest and two, I made an adversary out of the King._

_Back in my soon-to-be ex-chambers, I began to put my books and research in crates to be carried to the South Tower. When I heard footsteps behind me, all I could do was sigh._

_“It will take a bit longer than a few hours to pack my things.”_

_“The King is blinded by the lies fed into him by that priest.”_

_I turned to find Sir Selwyn standing in the doorway. His normally stoic face twisted in conflicting emotion. “That may be, but there is nothing I can do, Selwyn. It’s either compliance or die by fire. Compliance keeps me alive. You needn’t worry about me. Father Gwenddydd wants to think himself above me, but I will continue to treat him as an equal.”_

_Silence passed between us as Sir Selwyn picked up a book from my desk. He examined each of the pages, transfixed by the glittering letters and drawings on the page. From what I could tell, he picked up a book on healing magic._

_“What does it feel like?” He asked._

_I snapped my head towards where he sat reading the book. “What does what feel like?”_

_“Having magic. Does it hurt sometimes?”_

_“Never. It feels like faint hum just underneath the skin. I know how it sounds, but it’s a happy, comfortable feeling.”_

_When Selwyn didn’t say anything, I went back to organizing my things. He did lighten my mood somewhat and my magic seemed less thunderous. It actually seemed…content. Selwyn was the first person my magic took a real liking to. Every time I came near him, my magic buzzed like a gleeful honey bee. I haven’t told John, but Selwyn was the first person I loved. He had just turned 25 the first time we met making him about ten years younger than myself. Our relationship became deep and intimate very quickly. We were in a time and a place where being amorous towards someone of the same gender didn’t bode well in the royal household. I planned to tell John last night, but the memories still sting._

_Moving on._

_I completely moved into the South Tower after a week and a half and in that time, I still hadn’t been requested at council meetings. So, I busied my time in searching for new forms of magic and advising those who came to me._

You already started?

_Nothing you haven’t heard before._

Oh. How far are you in?

_About a week after I moved into the South Tower._

Just before –

_Just before._

This part makes me angry.

_I know it does, but it was ages ago, love. The King is dead and it’s all forgotten._

Still makes me angry.

_I love you._

*inaudible*

_*inaudible* - ape is still running._

Oh good, our old lady conversation about tea is on there.

_I don’t think so. We were pretty far away from the tape recorder._

Mmm. Here’s your tea. Honey and cream.

_Thank you. Now, like I said it was weeks before I was summoned into council again but only because the King faced a magical threat in the outskirts of the Kingdom right on the eastern borders._

_“You and one of my knights must travel to the east to stop this beast from destroying any more villages.”_

_I raised my eyebrows at the King’s lack of concern. “Yes, Sire. But, I need more information. Did anyone report what the beast looked like?”_

_“A dragon.” Father Gwenddydd offered._

_I scoffed at the man’s absurd answer. “Impossible. The last of the dragons died out with the last Merlin…”_

_The King sided with the priest. “Then what else has claws and scales for skin?”_

_In response, I pursed my lips. “Dragons breathe fire. Did this creature?”_

_“No.”_

_“Then it’s a Wyvern. A relative to the dragon. They can’t breathe fire, but their claws are sharp and their breath poisonous. They don’t require magic to kill, a simple sword will do it.” When I think about this moment, I should have noticed the way both the King and the priest reacted. I’m not an idiot and I’m not sure they took that into account. Wyverns are dangerous, but with a skilled swordsman –_

Are? You mean those things still exist?

_I’d say no. They probably died out or evolved as humans developed more advanced weapons and just genuinely forgot about them, mixing their lore with that of the dragon._

You ever meet a dragon?

_I wish, but they were gone years before I was born._

What about Merlin?

_The Merlin. There were many who carried the name Merlin. It was a title. That’s why lore has him depicted as immortal. Where the old man visage came from, I haven’t a clue._

Mmm. I’m hungry.

_Me too. Let’s pick this up later?_

**End of recording.**


End file.
